


Piggy Pink

by humanveil



Category: Casino Royale (2006), Confessions of a Shopaholic (2009)
Genre: ...family fluff?, Crossover, M/M, luke has a child, this is soft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-03
Updated: 2016-09-03
Packaged: 2018-08-12 09:08:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7928971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/humanveil/pseuds/humanveil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Luke knew there were many ways to impress his possibly-a-boyfriend. Accidentally turning a designer shirt pink probably wasn't one of them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Piggy Pink

**Author's Note:**

  * For [murdergatsby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/murdergatsby/gifts).



> for charlie bc i love her. it is six am and i have not slept nor did i look this over but it's okay hopefully ya'll like it anyway

Luke stands beside the washing machine, eyes wide as he stares down at the fabric in his hands. What had once been a pristine white collared shirt now sits damp in his hand, the cloth a patchy pale pink.

He’s not quite sure what to do with it, so, for a moment, he doesn’t do anything. Just stays still.

Over the years of their friendship, it had become rather common for Le Chiffre to stay over. Lately, it was becoming rather common for him to stay in Luke’s room, curled up on the left side of the bed as if it was where he'd always meant to be.

Which is fine. Better than fine, really. The weight of the body, the soft, quiet snores that fill the room when he lays down to sleep – Luke loves it. He wants more of it, even; wants it to last longer.

(A voice in the back of his head tells him he wants it to last forever. He decides to ignore it).

So no. Le Chiffre being there isn’t the issue, The Issue is that Annabelle liked leaving things in odd places, places Luke would never think to look in. It had had some interesting consequences over the few years she’s been alive – Luke vividly remembers the time he’d had to throw a mattress out when it became clear half of it had been covered in some kind of paint mixture – but there had been nothing like _this_.

Logically, he knows it’s just a shirt, and that Le Chiffre probably won’t care. (At least, Luke thinks he won’t. The other man hadn’t shown any sign of disdain towards Annabelle since they’d been introduced, and he hopes he won’t start now). _But still._

For a moment, he contemplates hiding the shirt and giving Le Chiffre another one of a similar style. But he knows his own won’t fit, and, while he stays over often, the other man has yet to take up the habit of leaving clothes alongside Luke’s.

(Luke definitely doesn’t think about _that_ , nor does he hope for a day where he finds something of Le Chiffre’s in his draw. Not at all).

So with a resigned sigh, he places the shirt in the dryer, digs around for whatever item Annabelle had put in the washing machine, (a red sock meant for a doll), and heads back to his room to wake Le Chiffre. The other man lies just as he’d left him; curled in on himself, cheek pressed into a soft pillow while stray strands of hair fall in front of his closed eyes.

Gently, Luke sits on the edge of the bed, hand reaching out to touch said strands of hair. He pushes them back behind Le Chiffre’s ear, lips twitching at the quiet hum it prompts.

“Jean,” Luke murmurs, the pad of his thumb running across his temple. Le Chiffre hums again, louder, this time, and Luke grins as he repeats the name.

Brown eyes blink up at him eventually, shining with a familiar light; something tired yet happy. Their morning goes as it usually does, (Luke refuses to call it a routine), with Le Chiffre starting on coffee while Luke retrieves Annabelle; who is always awake, patiently awaiting for an acceptable time to leave her bed.

Le Chiffre fixes Annabelle her cereal, and Luke pointedly doesn’t think about the pleasant ache it brings to his chest.  They eat in a comfortable silence, broken only by soft murmurs of _pass me the milk_ and _another cup?_ Luke almost forgets about the shirt.

 _Almost_.

He’s reminded of it moments later, when Le Chiffre disappears to his bedroom before reappearing, fully dressed save the soft stomach on display. He looks at Luke expectantly, who merely stares back at him for a minute before jolting into action.

He moves back towards the washing machine, sparing a glance to make sure Annabelle was fine. Le Chiffre follows, and when Luke reaches to grab the shit, now fully dry, the faintest of blushes colours his cheeks. He supresses the urge to rub the back of his neck with his palm as he turns to face the other man, a sheepish smile on his lips.

He’s not quite sure what he expects, but there’s a nag in his brain that makes him think the worst. It was a nice shirt, after all. Expensive, Luke knows. Designer. He can vividly picture the scolding he would have received had he done such a thing as a child.

Whatever it was, he couldn’t have predicted _this_. Luke watches intently as Le Chiffre’s gaze flicks to the pink fabric, his brow raising ever so slightly. Luke opens his mouth to explain, words about stray socks and mistakes falling from his mouth in a way that makes Le Chiffre’s lips tilt into a smirk, that makes his eyes glint with mirth.

After letting him ramble for a moment, Le Chiffre merely plucks the shirt from Luke’s hands and begins putting it on. Luke stops mid-sentence, brow furrowing as he looks at Le Chiffre.

“Wait,” he says. “You’re…”

“Yes,” Le Chiffre answers, maintaining eye contact as he buttons the shirt. “Why wouldn’t I?”

“Well, I just thought…” Luke trails off, sighing. “I didn’t think you’d wear pink.”

Le Chiffre grins, a rare flash of teeth. Luke knows he’s probably the only one who’s been witness to it.

“Why wouldn’t I?” he shoots back. “It compliments my skin tone, wouldn’t you say?”

The words are muttered as he finishes buttoning the shirt. He doesn’t wait for Luke to answer before turning and walking back out to the kitchen – he’s already behind schedule, and can’t really afford to make things worse.

He’s leaning over to kiss Annabelle goodbye, his lips gently brushing her hairline, when Luke finally answers, standing just beside him now.

“I—yes, but. Don’t you have a meeting?”

“Mhm.”

“Won’t they say something?”

Le Chiffre keeps smirking, thinking of what had happened the last time his ‘feminine’ qualities had been mentioned. “They won’t,” he assures Luke, who continues to simply look at him. “You shouldn’t be so surprised.”

Luke laughs, a quiet puff of air escaping through his nose, and Le Chiffre leans across Annabelle to kiss his cheek, his lips and soft and warm against the skin.

“I’ll see you tonight?”

Luke hums in agreement, and Le Chiffre kisses him again. This time it’s a soft, chaste touch of lips, one that’s followed by Luke leaning up on his tippy toes to kiss Le Chiffre’s forehead.

“Of course.”

Le Chffre gives them both one last grin before walking away. The pink really does match his skin tone, Luke thinks.


End file.
